Kids

I used to count the alternate white and black as I crossed the road when I was young. And now as I step on the last I'm thinking this will also be the last time I'll ever cross this road. The void deck with the stone benches. Six round seats. I remember how I used to sit there and wait while observing in silence. Right behind is a choice between a slope and a small flight of stairs. I always chose the latter. Face the clinic that has undergone renovation so many times. And out to the carpark because the badminton court site has been fenced with barricades. Lift upgrading, the signage reads. I recall us hauling the rackets and net down the stairs. I was always the lazy one who stood by and watched them tie the net to the poles. She would look at us from the window while we waved frantically and pretended like we were too carried away with the game. When she signalled that she'd be going to the kitchen to prepare dinner we'd wink at each other, then fish out the coins in our tiny pockets and race to the vending machine a block away. We had to be quick, because she didn't allow if she knew. This is how we grew up.

Indelible

Past midnight. Through the dim lights. We watched on as they incessantly gave you a diagnosis every few minutes. Each one lasted eternity. We're silent, while the smell of drugs hung heavy in the air. Perhaps at that point of time, we all knew. But no one dared mention a word. Because it would be real the minute we say anything. And we were all just deceiving ourselves. Hoping against vacant hope, that what we're thinking of isn't true. We wanted somebody to walk out that corner and reassure us that our fears were unnecessary because you'd be fine. But none did. And we finally had to face what had to come. Too quickly, but not unexpected. We had to make a choice. Let go and spare you the agony, or cling onto every possible way in a bid too desperate to keep you by our side? Amongst us, some were relenting. Finally the tears came. On every single face. As we each walked to your bedside and let you watch us for the last time. You were too tired to speak, while my voice faltered as I attempted to. I held your hand tightly in mine, hoping that you would suddenly be strengthened to pull through this. I knew you could, because you did. But in the end you chose to stop battling. Too weary. You made your decision, and I found it the hardest to respect. But God taught me to see this beauty in letting go. Till today, I never forgot how you chose to finally breathe for the last time when no one was by your side. Alone you came and alone you left. To be with the one who has blessed me with your very presence for more than half of my life. I miss you.

Overrated

I awake to the smell of cinnamon and inhale the air. Dense. Still, quiet. The road's in solitude and its tranquility murmurs of reluctance. Reluctance, that makes things too apparent. When do we know we're no longer what we are? There comes a point when we have to learn to let things go. Not because it's the right option, but because holding on wouldn't make things better. We will all be reluctant. Who's to say we've never wanted this more than anything? At the end we all just settle. It's when we realise we're just like everyone else. It's when we stop trying to be different because there's no way. It's when we tread our toes on soft sand and forget how we used to build sandcastles. It's when we stop doing what we love. Because we think there's little time we should afford for ourselves. We all hear and speak about our lofty ambitions. Dreams that are seemingly unattainable, but made believable when we pat each other on the shoulders. And so we work hard, thinking that we are in control and that what we do today determines the results we will face. But growing up also means you have to learn to accept. That we have no idea how our life really turns out albeit meticulous planning. We write them down, make oaths to ourselves. We clench our fists and say we're determined. We focus on nothing but what we design and eventually label as goals. We get distracted along the way and wake up to the ugly side. Realise that life isn't all pretty. And struggle to come to terms with the truth that ultimately we'll never know how things pan out in our lives. So this makes the idea of having dreams moot. There's no point, isn't it? We search for information, get obssessed and busy ourselves with the whole planning of our future, battling against the parts of our selves that tell us it's impossible.
We listen to inspiring stories and listen to all the successful accounts, and finally believe that if we really put in more than enough, we would be where we want to be. But we all forget too easily: we too are in the midst of people who're just living the norm. They're not exactly unsuccessful, they just don't hold anything impressive. And this is majority. Which means a greater probability of us being one of them. So when all has dissolved, what do we hold on to?
Consider finding joy amidst all the drudgery and reluctance. A road less traveled indeed, but maybe this is the way I want it.

Live to deserve

By the water flanked by green. I observe the grass and notice a bird perched on a cupcake discarded by the traffic lights. It takes a leap backwards and I frown. I scrutinise the creature and catch a glimpse of its injury. It tries again and narrowly misses a fall this time. I quickly write. The wind's unsettling the papers. As though it were fanning the embers of wistfulness that has found its way into my heart, about to be born out of my eyes in the form of water.

A helpful reminder that I'll always like to keep. The point where your face was reflected off every wall I crashed. Where every light screamed of your presence. Every sound, your name. I couldn't look anywhere. You remained vivid, the evil smell of your presence lingered in every breath I took. To the last image of a helpless shadow, under the swollen sheen of the moon. Desperately wanting to break free and find a new way. Watching it come down so close. To the part that connects to the heart. Before it finally made the mark and had the figure crumbling in angry tears. Freedom-is this the way you want it?

Blood, that has washed the sun this evening. It hasn't rained. The road is peaceful and the sound of the crickets fill the humid air. A symphony of desolation. It amplifies the agony sprinting through my blood that wants you to hurt so bad. Yet the gentleness of the water resonates: Pain propels me. Just like how we bleed sometimes to remind ourselves that we are in life. And in life, we can't expect everything to be forgotten.

You are far away.

Twinkle

When I'm on my own I like staring at the sky while I think. It reminds me of people I love. And how all the disappointments pale in comparison to its vastness. Where does the sky end? In the morning I look up and see it filled with soft wisps of clouds while I feel the warmth of the light on my face. In the dark when everything else disappears I see the moon which stays in sight no matter where I go. Like a sort of quiet. Because everyone gets to have his own part of the sky and no one can stop anyone. In this rat race with so many papier-mache friendships where everyone wants to have the upper hand, how many actually stop to lift up their chins and give the sky a look? And realise that life isn't all about competing?
So many traipse through the same routine everyday not knowing where they're heading. But if you could just give it a little thought, you'd realise that no matter how much we've become, we're all still under the same sky. The sky that is always there when you look up. The sky speaks of hope we all unknowingly long for. A connection between people separated geographically. A reminder of how much more life is about. A solace in this broken world of distraught.
Everyone gets the chance to witness the rainbow. But only if one faithfully watches the sky often enough. And the rainbow reminds us of the covenant God made. His promise to us. And like the sky, his love endures. And provides hope. I'm reminded that despite every agony I'm going through, He's safely in control of the bigger picture.
When the rain starts to fall on my face, I can gently close my eyes and feel safe because I know when the rain stops and I look again, the light remains. Even in the dark, the moon never fails to be the brightest.

I LOVE JOEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

rapidhopeloss

Power Of The Cross

Oh, to see my name
Written in the wounds,
For through Your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death
Life is mine to live,
Won through Your selfless love.


And we stand forgiven at the cross.

This Good Friday and Easter, I'm again reminded deeply of how God promises to take away the past. And that I'm freed by Christ's death for me. Believe me, He's real.
How can I ever thank You enough?

Trigger

A song. A video. An exact same idea. And I'm breaking down in tears.
It has been years since I've cried into the wee hours like that. And I hate myself for this. A thousand times over. But I was never supposed to be strong.

FRIENDS 4EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR :)

Give it up for my two favourites

fffriends

Joey: ‘Sup? ‘Sup dude?
Chandler: Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.

Joey: So you’re playing a little Playstation, huh? That’s whack! Playstation is whack! ‘Sup with the whack Playstation, ‘sup?! Huh? Come on, am I 19 or what?!

Chandler: Yes, on a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the dumbest a person can look, you are definitely 19.

One of my favourite scenes

fffriends
Joey: Ross? You okay?

Ross: They’re still, they’re still not coming on man and the lotion and the powder have made a paste!

Joey: Really?! Uhh, what color is it?

Ross: What difference does that make?!

Joey: Well, I’m just—if the paste matches the pants, you can make yourself a pair of paste pants and she won’t know the difference!

Crankyyyyyyyyyyyyy

I know how everyone has reasons for loathing exams and i can probably name a list here but what really makes exams so irksome is that i have little time for my diary. I'm used to writing whatever I feel, running after every thought that goes through my heart and head because forgetting is one of my fears. The meaningless preparation for the ultimately pointless grades gives me zilch time to write. What I would give to be in someplace quiet now! I'd sing to my notebook, take me somewhere we can be alone. I can write pages and pages of diary for hours just sitting and thinking. It provides me refreshment for my weary soul. People ought to have the choice to listen to their hearts. So one more day. I will survive.

These woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.

From one of my favourite poems. Because it always reminds me of how helpless we are in reality.

Quick thoughts before I lose them

Randomly browsing through videos as usual and I'm suddenly filled with so much emotions. Pretty unbelievable but not impossible. A girl who's fifteen and married broke the TV and actually resorted to setting herself on fire because she was deprived of the right to have any say in the family. Marriage has become a need, a process that such girls have to go through in order to fulfil social expectations. To prove their worth, even at an age as young as 3. I wonder what goes through their hearts when they undergo the whole process. Utterly robbed of all say and what little right they had. Surely their parents didn't wish for this to happen, but faced with intense social pressure, how many people are actually able to stand out from the crowd, fight the norm and possibly risk losing everything they have? People don't really have a choice sometimes. Most can fight and try making a difference but will ultimately find themselves conforming. Then going through rough patches, sticking it out, crossing the boudaries between life and death. And what is marriage to these people after so much turmoil they have to experience? It's no longer love but responsibility, accountability and paradoxically, protection. Because despite the evils and wickedness they have to face they would be worse off without marriage.
Love...has dwindled to such a state. And in most circumstances like these, I'm presuming most would never ever get to understand how amazing this thing called love is. So if you ever experience even a slightest tingle of love, treasure it. Because most people take it for granted and never give second thoughts to what beautiful things love could do to so many people in this world. I really wished everyone had a chance to love.

Valentine's

"I cannot behold you without emotion; my heart still answers to your voice, my blood in my veins to your footsteps."

I love how love letters were written in the past, where people conveyed their emotions with just pen and paper, in the most primitive fashion. So few words, yet with so much feelings. Diction that's so powerfully strong it reaches the depths of hearts.

I've always loved pouring out my musings on paper but I really wished I could write like that. So personal and delicate. I need to stop and listen more quietly. And forget the world that I'm in.

Almost clear

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the notion of love. Everybody interprets it differently. And I think I'm getting my answer soon. Blurred images of how love looks like are gradually becoming more vivid. Took me years. I'd soon come to realise what exactly love is in my mind and heart. And I'm most honest when I say I'm really writing these thoughts down because I want to face myself clearly. Unafraid, to reveal that a part of me may indeed be vulnerable.

Notes of the past

I was reading my previous blog -- well yes previous blog that had a blogskin and tagboard and which I left off about 2 years ago?-- and I feel that people should never delete blogs they have started even if they decide to abandon them because they bring back so much flashbacks. I used to blog in a more casual manner with random insertion of hysteria that revolves around school, friends and God. Comparing myself now with that of the past, I must say I have indeed grown so much more in my thoughts. Deeper, more sensitive. And I like it that God's such a big part of my life I blog with Him written either explicitly or in between the lines in my posts.
People do change but some things always stay the same - The immense amount of words on both blogs remind me that I have always loved writing. I wonder if anybody could ever understand this quiet passion of mine.

Hello 2010

Photos always remind you of the past because that's when the fun in that instant is captured to remind us years down the road why we shouldn't stop taking them.

I was just looking through the tons of albums we have on Facebook and I really miss you all 5 babies.

>:(

Euphoria

2 facts about me that most wouldn't know:

1. Yellow is my favourite colour.

2. I love Hello Kitty.

So, look what I received in one package for christmas!

Apparently the bottle is of limited edition and costs over fifty bucks.

It's Hello Kitty and it's Yellow (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Am feeling very ecstatic ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Christmas

It's been a while since I've spent time alone like this. I enjoy every bit of solitude because it provides silence for my thoughts to run. I'm getting a lot of DejaVu nowadays and I still can't decide if I like it. Something happens, and I start to see similar images in my head. Vague ones. I try to focus so I can get a clearer sense but they flicker and leave too quickly every time I do it. So I give up. It's way too exhausting having to chase after several images that may merely be figments of my imagination. But they inspire me to write because I'd like to think of them as subtle and delicate. So there, clarity may not be well-received by me all the time. Maybe it is through picking up scattered pieces everywhere that makes everything so much clearer for ourselves. Because such little occasions reveal part of the truth, one by one. And till today, I'm still collecting them. It feels like it never ends because when I think it has I'm always thrown off guard when a new one springs up and fits in so appropriately. I've always missed you and I guess it's the most during christmastime. Shimmering lights that dazzle and confuse me at the same time. They fade in, fade out. Almost hesitant, but keeping up with the beat of my heart. Your favourite tracks and I sing along. Reminds me of your voice which I haven't heard since you left. Every bit of christmas is like a trigger that tugs at my memory. I close my eyes and I see myself sitting under the tree eagerly looking for my name on the glitzy labels. Then I give you a hand with your gifts because you always have difficulty with unwrapping. Then to the one flashback I always have - your favourite question when the bottom of the tree is filled with all the shiny paper and ribbons.

"Do you know who the gifts are from?"

"Er, you, mom ---"

"Wrong. They're all from Jesus."

And I always got befuddled because obviously Jesus didn't buy them. But years have passed and helped me to see beyond what I could only think of as a child. Indeed, every gift, material or non-material, is from Him. He who does not change like shifting shadows. And you're one of the best. You must be having a great time with Jesus. Christmas reminds me of real joy. Real eternal gifts. Real spirit of giving. So this is really what it means to me, and I thank God for feeling this way because I know it's real and it can never be taken away.

Camp

A big blast, I'd say. I was never a fan of camps but this made things a little different. So I'm writing before I forget.
Majority of my memory lies in the busyness of it all. People passing by repeatedly. Swarms gathering, swarms dispersing. Words spoken hurriedly, cacophonies of voices and running footsteps. A request for help through an electronic device and the next second, a man scoots out of the door. A busy morning, then afternoon. All soaked and sticky. But you can't fall. Like an endurance race. Closure for the day and the corridors are silent. Bunks devoid of noise. Phone screen flickers occasionally to tell the time. A new day arrives, and it's the rush again. Greetings, invigorated expressions everywhere. A gentle breeze wafts through my hair, and I thank God. Everything reminds me of His unfailing love. Quiet, subtle, but with such great force. Across the days, rapport builds, people grow. Fruits of seeds sown many months ago. Contacts and messages exchanged. I feel a surge in adrenalin and my hand flies to my heart, which God has just touched when a boy expresses his gratitude. When another young man remarks, 'No regrets'. And I know, this has to be God. Nothing could be so perfect. All the little pieces over the months-fell into place so flawlessly. All the intricacies become intertwined so seamlessly. I marvel. I thank Him. Everything feels right, feels so good. And I know, it's His love. I'm so thankful for that decision made before anything was even planned out. Because He has brought me to and through an experience that will always remind me of His love, His grace and His providence. He has made it all so perfect. Thank you God for your kindness, and your love.